Vice

by Elana Johnson

“How will you get home?”

  “I can drive a car,” he said. “I just can’t ride a bike.”

  “You don’t own a car.”

  “I’ll ask Karly if I can use hers for a few days.”

  Maverick just looked steadily at him, but Vice didn’t know what to say or do. He had to get to work. He had to get out of the house. He couldn’t just lay on the couch all the time, even if it had been nice to take an afternoon nap with a warm dog at his feet. Naps didn’t pay bills, and Smoky didn’t get along with King, so he never brought the mutt to the clubhouse where Mav’s shepherd roamed freely.

  “I’m sure you can,” he said. “But it’s not a long-term solution.”

  “I had House’s sister help me last time,” he said. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d injured his ribs. “I want to give a report at church tonight. The Breath were in our town, robbing our grocery store.”

  “I’ve been talking with Tyson about it,” Maverick said, his expression turning dark.

  Vice instantly felt left out, though he knew he shouldn’t. Had he not been injured, he still wouldn’t have participated in their talks, as he had a day job that kept his heat on in the winter, his mortgage paid, and food on the table.

  “And?” he asked. Smoky had plenty of food and water, and he said, “Be back later, Smoky,” and headed for the front door.

  “And it’s a serious issue,” Maverick said. “We already fight against the outlaw biker reputation in this town.”

  “You should’ve seen Brit Hill,” Vice said. “He said the thieves were ‘my kind’.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Maverick said, sighing. He followed Vice out the front door and closed it behind him. He didn’t try to steady Vice on the steps, for which he was grateful. By the time Vice made it to the car, a fine layer of sweat had beaded on his hairline, and he wiped it away quickly as Mav folded himself into the driver’s seat of a tan sedan.

  Vice had to contort quite a lot too, but he managed to get his long legs and broad shoulders in the car and buckled for safety.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Maverick said. He put the car in reverse, and it jerked into motion instantly. He grumbled something about not knowing how to drive a car because he never did it, and Vice just grinned. It was nice to see Maverick get a little flustered sometimes, as he somehow seemed so infallible.

  Vice, of course, knew that wasn’t true. Maverick had been severely beaten two years ago and endured many injuries and subsequent surgeries. Vice had watched a pale version of the man he loved sleep in hospital beds and need a lot of help as he recovered and healed.

  But he always seemed to know what to do. Who to talk to. When to take action. He was a great club president, and Vice couldn’t even imagine running the Sentinels half as well as Maverick Malone.

  “What did you and Tyson talk about?” he asked, still pressing for information.

  “Daddy joined that club,” Maverick said. “And Tyson knows what living in a club like the Breath is like.”

  “So do we think they came here to start something with us?”

  “I don’t know,” Maverick said. “I’m not sure why they would. We haven’t bothered them.”

  “Do they not have grocery stores in Williamsburg?” Vice asked. “And is that really the best place to get money?”

  “Tyson’s worried that because he burned his clubhouse in Grand Central, and all the drugs the club moved, that the Breath has lost their drug money too.”

  “But that’s a good thing,” Vice said. He really liked thinking of himself as a vigilante, maybe with a black cape and some fancy gadgets tucked into his belt.

  “Not for them,” he said. “They need that money to live, to survive. They don’t have outside jobs like we do.” Mav flashed him a concerned look. “Right? Tyson didn’t have a job. His job was being in the club.”

  Vice started nodding, his mind spinning now. “So if they lost their main source of income, and no other way to replace it, they might go looking for money.”

  “And they don’t want the heat to come down on them in the town where they live.”

  “So they drive an hour to rob a bank inside one of our grocery stores.” Vice sounded resigned, and he keenly understood the desperation a man could feel when he found himself in an impossible situation.

  “Apparently,” Maverick said.

  Vice braced himself as Maverick took a corner a little bit too quickly. He suppressed the groan, his teeth clenched tightly together. “And what are we going to do about it?”

  “We’ll decide that at church tonight.”

  The rest of the trip to Ruby’s happened in silence, and Vice eased himself out of the sedan once it was parked in the garage. At that moment, he realized he’d left his phone at home…somewhere.

  He thought of his brother, and Thomas would just roll his eyes. Vice was forever leaving his phone somewhere and realizing it later. Not that it mattered. Pretty much the only people he talked to were here at the clubhouse, though his mother called like clockwork every Wednesday night.

  Mav held the door for Vice, following him inside, where chatter met Vice’s ears and the scent of grease mixed with metal, which combined with something like caramel.

  “There he is,” House said, jumping to his feet as a smile covered his whole face.

  Life and light filled Vice’s whole soul, and he laughed as House embraced him too. “I can’t believe you knocked a guy to the ground, and you were the one who came out with a broken rib.”

  “It’s only fractured,” Vice said, slapping House on the back as Mav slipped by them and went out front. “It’s good to be back.”

  “You weren’t even gone twenty-four hours.” House stepped away and his dark, stormy eyes said what he couldn’t vocalize. He didn’t like it when Vice wasn’t in the club, but he hadn’t wanted to make Vice feel like he needed a babysitter.

  “Felt like longer.” Vice held his eye for another moment, hopefully telling Lucas—his best friend of almost twenty years—that he could come by any time.

  “Word on the street is that a certain redhead has been playing nursemaid for you.” House lifted his left eyebrow in that characteristic way he had. And Vice would tell him everything about Felicia, whether he wanted to or not.

  “Not right now,” he said, and that would keep House off his back for a few hours.

  “So it’s true.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “If it wasn’t true, there wouldn’t be anything to tell, and you wouldn’t need to say ‘not right now.’ So it’s something.”

  Vice couldn’t help grinning, because he was definitely hoping that this thing with him and Felicia could be something. Something big. Something good.

  House laughed, and the two of them went into the big meeting room in the back of the shop, where benches had been set up. A huge TV sat on the back wall, and sometimes club members would hang out here, eat ice cream, talk, and watch a movie. They held church meetings here, and a full-sized fridge held sodas, water, and lots of flavors of past ice creams Maverick had made.

  The scent of chocolate and sugar met Vice’s nose, and he turned as Electron brought in the hot fudge and caramel he labored over on church meeting nights. He set the bowls on the table, and Ian came right behind him with a big tub of ice cream.

  “What’s the flavor tonight?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” House said. “Maverick got it going early and put Ian in charge so he could come get you.”

  “He didn’t mention it.”

  “He’s worried about the Breath.”

  “We all should be.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s mint chocolate chip tonight,” Maverick said, entering the room behind them. “Let’s get a treat and get going on this. We have a lot to talk about tonight.”

  Vice waited and watched as the other bikers—his friends, his brothers—got up and formed a line to get their ice cream. It wasn�
��t the typical motorcycle club, that was for sure. But it was absolutely the brotherhood Vice needed in his life.

  He thought about Felicia as House extended his hand to Vice to help him stand. Vice put his hand in his brother’s and let him pull him up, a groan coming out of his mouth though he tried to silence it. They went over to the table together, and Vice wondered how in the world he could choose between a woman and his club.

  He wanted both in his life, and he didn’t understand why he couldn’t have it all.

  He didn’t even know when he’d get to see or talk to Felicia again, but when he did, he was going to ask her if he could just have one more chance, and that maybe, just maybe, she could give the club a chance too.

  Chapter Four

  Felicia arrived at Market Fresh at three o’clock, the same as she always did. The store wasn’t open, but her manager, Jerry Roast, had asked all the department managers to come in. The store seemed normal on the outside, if not a little abandoned because of the empty parking lot.

  But inside, the feeling in the air unsettled Felicia in a way she’d experienced on a constant basis growing up. All of the aisles looked the same—full of bottles of condiments, super-sized bags of cereals, and refrigeration units humming along.

  A couple of police officers still worked in the area around the bank, and Felicia wanted to step over to them and ask them what they were doing. As far as she knew, they’d arrested all three of the men who’d entered the store last night with threats and weapons. Two here at the store, and the third a few miles away, after he crashed his motorcycle during the police chase.

  A police chase.

  Felicia shivered, because such things didn’t normally happen in Forbidden Lake. The town was growing, true. More and more people were moving to the quaint, lakeside community that was known more for its cherries and access to the sprawling State Park. The summer months brought thousands of tourists, and Felicia loved the vibe then as much as she liked the quieter winter months.

  “Hey, Felicia,” someone said, and she turned away from the produce section. It seemed odd that someone would come to buy bananas, as if that totally normal activity had somehow been tainted.

  She turned toward Pearl Stockton, who ran the bakery and deli. “Afternoon,” she said, putting a smile on her face. Felicia was well-versed with doing such things, as she’d smiled through a lot of tragedy and pain in her life.

  “Jerry has lunch upstairs.” Pearl watched her closely, and if there was anyone at the store who knew the unrest in Felicia’s soul, it was Pearl. In fact, she drew Felicia into a hug and held her tight. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  Felicia’s throat narrowed, because she wanted to feel this safe and this loved all the time. “I’m okay,” she managed to say.

  “You were here last night, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Felicia stepped back and nodded, swiping quickly at her left eye, which was about to betray her. “In the back, though. Dante and Marc were with me. We were okay.”

  Pearl nodded, her dark braid falling over her shoulder with the movement of her head.

  “Jordan was here,” Felicia said, but it might have only been a whisper. Everything sounded so loud in the empty grocery store, and she didn’t want to be down here in the open space anymore. She stepped toward the Employees Only door, and Pearl went with her.

  “Oh?” Pearl reached the door first and put her hand on the doorknob. She didn’t open it, and Felicia looked into her eyes. “What happened?”

  Memories of the past sixteen hours flowed through her. Jordan coming in the back door. Jordan throwing all those cans. Jordan lying in that hospital bed. She couldn’t explain it all now, and Jerry would probably tell everyone anyway. “He came for the dents and dings,” Felicia said. “While the bikers were here. He got involved, and he had to go to the hospital.”

  That summed things up nicely.

  “I see.” Pearl possessed such kind eyes.

  “I stayed with him and took him home this morning,” Felicia finally admitted.

  A smile touched Pearl’s face, and she hadn’t truly understood why Felicia had broken things off with Jordan a couple of years ago. “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  “Right.” Pearl opened the door and waited for Felicia to step through it. “Just say the very first thing you think of.”

  Felicia forced a laugh out of her throat. “Okay, Pearl.”

  “I mean it. I’m going to say something, and you just say the first thing you think of.”

  “I know the game.” They’d played it before, and Felicia started up the steps, the concrete steps in need of a new coat of paint.

  “I think you’ll probably see him again,” Pearl said.

  “I hope so,” Felicia said, sucking in her breath a moment later. She reached the top of the steps and turned back. “I mean….”

  “You know what you mean,” Pearl said, her smile widening by the moment. “You miss him.”

  “A little,” Felicia said, but even that wasn’t entirely true.

  “So.” Pearl linked her arm through Felicia’s as they walked down the hall to the big room where they had trainings and meetings. “How are we going to make sure you do?”

  Felicia’s mind hadn’t really stopped since the night before. “Well, he got injured when he tackled the guy trying to get away.”

  “Ooh, tackled. Sounds sexy.”

  Felicia could see the whole scene in her mind, as clearly as if it were happening right in front of her. “Maybe a little.” She could admit Jordan was sexy, with those broad shoulders, the dark eyes that seemed to see so much, that ink curling up his arms and under the sleeves of his shirt.

  She shivered just thinking about him, about the tender touch of his hands on her face as he kissed her.

  “So he’s hurt,” Pearl said, bringing Felicia back to reality. “Can he ride his motorcycle? Maybe he needs someone to drive him to work.”

  “He’ll never ask. At least not me.”

  “Oh, honey.” Pearl peered into the meeting room, and a few other people had already gathered there. She faced Felicia again and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, in such a maternal gesture. “You don’t wait for him to ask. You text him and offer.”

  “Text him and offer.” Felicia said the words like she wasn’t sure what they meant. “I can’t do that.”

  “Then give me your phone, and I’ll do it.”

  Felicia’s hand actually moved to her purse to clutch it tighter, though Pearl wouldn’t grab it away from her.

  “Ladies,” Jerry said, appearing in the doorway. “Welcome. Come on in.”

  Felicia held Pearl’s gaze for one more moment before they entered the room. Felicia wanted to give Pearl her phone, but she also wanted to be brave enough to get Jordan back into her life on her own.

  Problem was, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him back in her life. She sat down at the table and set her purse on the floor beside her feet.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Jerry said. “Let’s get some food, and then we’ll talk about what we’re going to do with the store.”

  Felicia got up again, and she followed the others over to the back table, where Jerry had put out sandwiches, fruit, salad, and sodas in a bin full of ice. She chatted easily with the others, as she’d been working at Market Fresh for a while now, and so had the others.

  The conversation was easy. She knew and liked all of these people. They were good citizens, trying to live the best lives they could in Forbidden Lake. Felicia admired all of them, and a sense of comfort and peace came over her. If she brought Jordan back into her life, would she have these feelings?

  “I can see all the thoughts on your face,” Pearl whispered. “Just text him and offer. All he can do is say no.”

  “I’m not worried about him saying no,” Felicia hissed back. “I’m worried about him saying yes.” She glanced at Byron, who’d clearly heard her. He said nothing, though, and Felicia smiled at him. “How are Kathy
and the kids?”

  “Just fine,” he said. “She didn’t want me coming to work today, but it’s not like we’re going to get robbed again, and I wasn’t even here.”

  Felicia nodded, her chest collapsing in a little bit.

  “I mean—” Byron said. “How are you, Felicia?”

  She’d been the only manager in the store during the robbery, and she’d been in the back room, putting the last of the dented cans from the aisles in the huge bin for Jordan.

  “I’m okay,” she said, thinking of Marc and Dante and how they’d both stepped in front of her, kept her behind them. “I wasn’t alone. Marc and Dante were here.”

  “And her super-hot boyfriend,” Pearl said.

  Embarrassment filled Felicia in less than a second, and her face heated. Byron just burst out laughing as he put a big scoop of potato salad on his plate. “Felicia, I’ve seen your boyfriend,” he said between chuckles. “He’s good-looking, even I can admit that.”

  Felicia stared at the man who was only a few years older than her. Yes, he had a family—a wife and three kids—which made him seem so much more mature than Felicia felt. “First off, he’s not my boyfriend. Second, Byron, I didn’t know you had a thing for tattoos.”

  Byron continued to laugh as he shook his head. He put his plate down and pushed up his shirtsleeve. “I got this for my wife and kids.” A black, inked tree spread across his bicep and up over his shoulder. The lines were thin and intricately done, the leaves spelling out the names of his wife and children.

  “It’s beautiful,” Felicia said, admiring it. “I bet Kathy loves it.”

  “She sure does.” Byron’s eyes sparkled, and they all went back to the table, but before Felicia picked up her sandwich, she pulled her phone out of her purse.

  Text him and offer.

  She looked at Pearl, who watched her and nodded with a small smile. She glanced at Byron, who just took a bite of his potato salad and said nothing.

  Hey, Felicia typed out. If you can’t ride your bike to work or anything, I could drive you. Maybe just let me know if you want me to do that.

  She read over the words, her stomach twisting. It sounded stupid, but she wasn’t sure how to fix it. She handed the phone to Pearl, who read quickly and shook her head. “I’ll fix it for you, sweetie.”